Finding Home
by jlo10131121
Summary: Carol manages to make it through Christmas without her daughter with the help of a certain archer.


"No running in the house!" Daryl heard Deanna shout as Sam whizzed past her, almost unseating her glass of wine. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas played in the background as she and her husband talked to Rick and Michonne. "As I was saying before Sam almost plowed into us…" Daryl tuned them out.

It was Christmas Eve. Christmas meant good food (what passed for good food nowadays) and presents, at least, that's what it looked like here in Alexandria, especially for the kids. They'd been cautiously excited for weeks now. How anyone managed to keep track of holidays after the last two years, he didn't know, but it wasn't Daryl's place to ruin things for the children. Not when they'd had so little to laugh about. Still, this whole thing didn't sit well with him. Deanna had invited the entire town over to her and Reg's house for dinner and drinks. Daryl had grudgingly gone along with it, but he had refused to dress up. Instead, while everyone else wore their Sunday best, he was comfortable in his worn jeans, a new-ish sweater Glenn had found for him on a run a few weeks before, and his trademark vest.

It had been four months since his group had arrived in Alexandria and everyone seemed to be finding their place, adjusting to life _not_ on the run. Rick and Michonne were the law in the community, he had been picked to help Aaron with recruitment, and the others had discovered their jobs. Carol, he thought, side-eyeing her as she passed through the living room, was the local busybody. She greeted everyone coming in from the outside, helped them adjust. She'd kept up her helpless act, even after it seemed everything would go well. Daryl hadn't called her out on it yet, either, and he had no intention of it. He could tell, it was her way of keeping under the radar. She hated to be in the spotlight as much as he did, he thought as he reached into his jeans pocket and fingered the rough wood inside.

He swiped a glass of…wine? from a nearby table filled with glasses and took a gulp. Almost sneered. He did not like wine. Or was this champagne? He couldn't remember which was which. Which had bubbles and which didn't. This was flat, no bubbles. Dry and red. Wait, champagne wasn't red. Regardless, it was wet and contained alcohol. He'd have liked a nice bottle of scotch, but he wasn't going to bitch.

His thoughts were interrupted by some of the younger children shrieking and running by him, almost making him drop the glass. "Hey, what did Deanna say just a few minutes ago?" Rick asked the kids sternly, a somewhat harsh look in his eyes (one look was all it took).

The littlest girl, only about four, gave him big blue eyes and replied, "No running, Mr. Rick. But we're just excited! We never had presents before. Can we open them?"

"Yeah, can we?!" the other kids piped in. Sam hung back, letting the others do the dirty work of trying to convince the town constable.

Daryl watched as Rick talked wordlessly with Deanna and then agreed. "Yeah, you can," he nodded over by the fake tree. "But look at those tags. Those aren't all for you, Madison." All of the presents under the tree were for the children. The adults had decided it wasn't worth the danger to scavenge for presents for themselves. Daryl watched as the kids tore into the boxes with excitement, wondering just what the adults in their lives had been able to get them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement, the flash of white, and turned his head to see Carol head upstairs.

Daryl hadn't gotten toys when he was a kid. A knife, a new-to-him pair of boots his mama had scrounged up, an old Plinkster that hadn't shot shit. Those were the types of 'gifts' he'd been given as a child. Practical stuff that a kid from the wrong side of town would need to survive. His house hadn't been a home. As he watched, the children lit into those presents like the world was ending. Madison in particular whooped the loudest when she saw the soft doll her box contained. Eyes blinking in surprise and heart clenching in pain, Daryl turned away from the sight of the little girl hugging a doll that looked startlingly similar to Sophia's and after snagging a jacket, followed his friend upstairs. Christmas was for kids anyway, he sneered internally. Ducking his head through each of the bedrooms on the second floor, Daryl couldn't find her. Where had she gone?

Something wet and cold, shockingly so, touched Carol's nose before dissipating. It caused her to shift her position on the roof. Then another, and another. Looking up, she was a little surprised to see the white stuff. Snow. She hadn't seen snow in a long, long time. Not since when Sophia was little and Ed had wanted to visit one of his military buddies in Tennessee and had dragged the two of them into the middle of nowhere. The cabin hadn't even had heat, but it had been a wonderful Christmas. Ed had been so wrapped up with visiting his friend, she had been able to bundle Sophia up and take her outside when it started to snow. Her happy toddler squeals had gladdened Carol's heart at that time and brought a smile to her face now. It still hurt to think of her baby, but it wasn't as fresh as it had been before.

Carol was sitting on the roof of Deanna's house, bundled up. Below, she could hear the revelry and laughs, though to her ears, some sounded forced. It was Christmas, the first Christmas they'd celebrated since the world had been turned upside down. Everyone was inside, warm and comfortable, enjoying eggnog (where _had_ they found that?) and cookies, hot cocoa and peppermint sticks, but she had slipped away quietly and come out here. Where it was quiet. She needed the quiet.

All of that below felt off. It felt fake and brittle. A perfect little scene to forget the horrors of the reality of their situation. There was no Santa. There were no wishes to come true. No praying hard enough for those lost to come back, Carol thought and swiped at a stray tear that dared to fall.

"You should go back inside. It's cold out here," she said without moving her head, sensing him behind her.

"Same could be said for you," Daryl replied as he ducked his head out the window before pulling himself out to sit on the shingles beside her.

"I don't feel it much." And promptly shivered.

"Liar." He handed her the jacket he'd pilfered from the front hall on his way up the stairs and watched as she pulled it over her shoulders.

Carol turned her head to look at him. "Why'd you come out here?"

"Looking for you," he said, eyeing her back.

"Well, you found me." She was quiet for a long moment, just watching the snow fall. Different sizes, those snowflakes. Her eyes lingered over several, large and small. Each intricate in design. "You know, she'd seen the snow once in her life. When we went to Tennessee when she was a baby. Just barely a toddler."

"She like it?" he asked quietly and let the silence speak for him. What he wanted to know was if she was okay. She'd left just as the kids were getting to those presents and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know why she'd taken off.

"We both did. We made snow angels and had hot cocoa while Ed visited with his friend. They largely ignored us and it worked out for the best. That was the best Christmas we ever had." Her voice was subdued, soft.

"It's okay to miss her," he said awkwardly. Shit, what was he doing? He didn't do mushy stuff.

Carol smiled slightly. "Sophia is never far from my thoughts. Every day something reminds me of her. And though we haven't had the time to…mourn properly, before, we've been here for four months now. It's just hitting harder than normal," she explained. "I just wish…"

He looked at her profile, saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. And waited.

"I just wish I could see her again. I don't have any pictures. No toys or her favorite book. That's the hell of this whole thing, that I have nothing to remember her by." What she wouldn't give to see her daughter again. To hold her close, smell that mix of sunshine and little girl sweat, hear her voice, her light, giggling laugh.

Daryl fingered his jeans pocket. Hesitated. He wasn't sure if it would make things better or worse. Ah, hell. Fuck it.

"We didn't say we'd give each other anything. It isn't even finished yet, but…" he started as he shifted, pulled out the flat piece of wood from his pocket and awkwardly handed it to her.

Carol brushed away stray tears and focused on the piece in his hand, taking it from him, their fingers sliding against each other. Her eyes cleared and she blinked, her breath stuttered in her lungs and her chest tightened.

"I carved it out of a piece of pine that was going to go for fire. Takin' me about a month now. It's not done, gotta work on the eyes. Something not quite right there and her smile seems a little off from what I remember…" his voice trailed off.

Daryl glanced over at her and Carol's eyes began to fill, and he heard a sob catch in her throat. Fuck, he couldn't get anything right. What the fuck had he been thi—

"Thank you. It's beautiful," Carol whispered, completely overcome. She'd forgotten how beautiful her baby's smile had been, but Daryl had gotten it just right, no matter that he believed he hadn't. Here she was, her precious Sophia, right in her palm. The carving was so gorgeous, the detail and attention he'd put into it exquisite. "I'd started to forget how beautiful she was," she continued slowly. "The kindness in her eyes, the laugh in her smile. You got it just right, Daryl. Thank you."

Carol looked up at him, gratitude and something else in her eyes, something he couldn't place. Grasping one of his hands, she brought it to her lips, and closing her eyes, kissed his knuckles. "There aren't words for how much I love this gift." Her voice was low and something inside tightened and shifted, and warmth spread throughout his body. He ducked his head out of embarrassment, hair covering his eyes.

Carol coaxed his head back up with a thumb and forefinger to his chin. "Thank you, Daryl." She searched his eyes, waiting for a sign, but decided to move regardless. She was over regrets. Moving slowly, giving him every chance to move away, she brought her face closer, and then pressed her lips to his gently, barely brushing his.

Daryl's breath caught and held and his heart started to hammer against his chest. What was going on? She'd never kissed him. And he'd never— _liar_ —thought—

His thoughts stuttered with the soft movement of her lips against his, gentle and tentative. With those yielding strokes of her mouth against his, Daryl couldn't think. Except for the thought that she tasted good. He asked for more, stroking his tongue against the seam of her lips and she granted him access. He accepted the invitation and deepened the kiss, moving closer to kiss her more fully. The hand not over hers reached up and cupped her cheek, thumb caressing her soft skin.

A few moments passed and she pulled back, breaking the kiss but only moving a few inches from him, blue searching blue. Whatever she saw there had her smiling slightly, then leaning in again to press one final kiss to his lips, before turning her body to spoon into his, trusting he'd position his legs to cradle her against him. Carol pulled his arm around her shoulder, laced his fingers with hers, nuzzled her face into his neck and watched the snow fall.

Daryl didn't want to break the spell by speaking into the silence. Watching the snow fall with Carol, feeling her fit into the spaces in his body, he pulled her closer, tighter to him. Felt his heart settle. Sometimes, he thought, you had to lose your home to find it. And find it he had. In Carol.


End file.
